Hunted
by Probably Han Solo
Summary: Silas Zaire, a renowned human bounty hunter, receives a seemingly simple job that proves to be anything but. Silas soon finds himself stuck in the middle of a conflict grander than he could have ever imagined and discovers that he has a role to play in it all. Will he accept his fate, or shun destiny altogether?
1. The Bounty

The Acacius drifted through the back of space. Inside, its only inhabitant rested in a slothy nature. Silas rested on the small couch that doubled for a bed he'd picked up during his travels. The soft hum of the ship's engines were enough to keep him lulled in his sedated state. Suddenly, a loud ping started up on the monitor on the wall adjacent to the couch. The noise shocked Silas. He jolted upright, grabbed his gun from the table before him in reflex and jerked his head toward the monitor. He calmed himself once he realized what the source of the sound was.

The soft hum of his ship's engines soothed his mind while the post-wake haze glossed his eyes. Silas pulled his hand to his eye and gave it one weak rub. He stretched his arms out and, immediately, felt his muscles pull against him. A brief, dull pain slid lazily around his arms and upper back.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes once more and stood up from his resting place. He walked over toward the monitor and lightly touched the screen. A video message popped up. Silas clicked the video open, only to be greeted by an angry Batarian.

"Listen here, you piece of human shit. I'm Gaul. A bounty hunter. Better than the likes of your sorry ass. You've been treading on my territory, and if I ever see your shitty little face anywhere near Omega again, I'll fucking ki-" Silas shut the video off and threw it into his monitor's trash-bin.

"Alright, asshole." He said in return.

Silas decided to flick through his messages after he noted an attempt to return to sleep would be futile. All messages pertained to various bounties the respected parties wished to recruit Silas for.

"Shit, shit, shit." Silas said as he flipped through the contracts. "Volus informant whose been talking too much on the Citadel, political advisor wants him brought to the slums in the Zakera ward where he'll be-No, fuck that." He continued to skim through each message which he discarded afterwards.  
After a solid fifteen, Silas finally found a bounty that caught his eye. This message had a video attached. "Hello, Mister Zaire." A Turian voice began to speak. "It is at the request of my superiors to contact you in requisitions of your aid."  
"Requisitions? These assholes military? They think they fuckin' own me?" Silas muttered to himself.

"We are operating out of Omega." The Turian continued. "A neutral party has dispatched an operative to deter us from further activities on this station. The assailant, Asari in nature, has been very elusive in our attempts to capture her. We have been told you are the very best and ask for your aid in this matter. The reward for your participation would follow as suit: 500,000 credits for the target dead, and 700,000 alive. She has been a thorn in our side for far too long. We hope to hear from you soon."

"Fuck those pretentious shits." Silas said. He closed the message and stormed to his pilot's chair. He sat down and rotated it forward to get a view of the space before him. He rested his elbow on the console next to the ship's controls. "But 700,000 credits…" He said to himself. He balled his hand up into a fist and lightly bit his index finger in contemplation. "Ah, shit!" He said aloud. He gripped the ship's control and charted a course for the nearest mass relay. He was headed for Omega.

The Acacius' engines roared as it descended upon Omega. The orange-red glow of the rock's neon lights shone in Silas' eyes. "This place is already annoying the shit out of me." He muttered as he approached the docking areas. He flew directly over them until he hovered over a secluded area empty of any crafts. Silas gently set the Acacius down. Its landing gear touched the cold steel below it as the engines slowed and hummed until it came to a stop. Geared up and armed, Silas opened up the Acacius' entrance ramp and promptly exited the ship. The ramp slid back up as soon as he was clear of it and the ship locked itself back up, only to open on Silas' command.

Silas made his way through dark, claustrophobic corridors. Dripping, engine roars and muffled screams were all to be heard in this particular area of Omega. He rounded another corner and was blinded by the bright lights of Omega's busiest areas. Silas opened his omni-tool and looked over the coordinates of his hirers. The orange glow flickered out as his hand dropped back down to his side. Silas looked over the whole of Omega before him and let out a sigh.  
"Well, here we go."

Silas headed for Afterlife, the hotspot of Omega. The beats shook the ground outside of the club. Lights flashed and danced around the outside of the construct, which made Silas sick to look at. He shook his head and made his way up the front steps. The bouncer prepared himself to deny Silas access, but backed away when he saw the black skull symbol upon his right breastplate. The doors jolted open and Silas, greeted by more neon, squinted his eyes in retaliation.

"Gah!" He let out. "Fuckin' hate this place." He continued onward as his eyes adjusted to the bright lights of the nightclub.

The second set of doors opened and revealed much darker lights. Silas found these lights to be much more soothing than the last set. The dark neon lights flashed from corner to corner. They only lightly illuminated the dancers as they moved and gyrated on the dancefloor. Silas redirected his attention to the bar, he was here for business, but an Asari dancer would catch his eye every now and again. Silas reached the bar and slammed his fist on the counter. He unfurled his fingers and pulled his palm away. A few credits left in place of where his fist rested.

"Gimme a shot of the strongest shit you got." He told the bartender. The bartender rubbed the shotglass he held with a small cloth and set it down on the counter before him. He reached below and pulled out a blue liquid, not uncommon to Silas, and poured it in the glass. The bartender slid the glass across the counter. It came to a halt when Silas' hand snatched it up and poured the liquid down his throat. A warm, fuzzy feeling overtook Silas' body for a brief moment and slipped away just as quickly as it had arrived. Silas shook his head and grunted. He enjoyed the initial shot of liquor as it coursed through his body, especially nonhuman brands.

Silas scanned his immediate area. To his left was an average human male. Nonmuscular, seemed frightened to be here. He wore an Asari on his wrist, most likely a hired 'companion'. No chance a man like that could land a homely human, let alone an Asari the stature this one had. To his right was a turian. Big, somewhat taller than Silas. Dark red facepaint marked his features. He took what seemed to be his fifth or sixth shot since Silas had entered the club. Silas turned his head to the Turian. If there was anyone to interrogate, it was him.

"I'm lookin' for an Asari." Silas said in a calm manner.

"Plenty of Asari 'round here, friend. Just take your pick." The Turian quickly responded.

"See," Silas said as he repositioned his body toward the bird. "This Asari's special."  
"Yeah, they all are." The Turian said. "'Till they leave your ass and take all your shit." He let out a slight hiccup afterwards.

"Ha, yeah, women have a way of doin' that to you." Silas returned with feigned empathy. "But, listen here, my Asari is of a particular nat-"  
"She even took my varren!" The Turian said in a burst which cut off Silas. "She took everything I had! She's a stone cold bi-" The Turian's string of words were cut short by Silas. He grabbed the Turian's arm and twisted it in an unpleasurable fashion.

"Alright, I don't have time for games." Silas said as the Turian whimpered in pain. The bartender was unattentive and the booming music muffled any small sounds the Turian made. "I'm looking for an Asari, probably a commando. She's been stirrin' up some trouble for a few friends of mine. You got any clue where she might be?"

"I don't know!" The Turian cried out. "Ch-check the lower section of Afterlife, the one down below-AGH-please, really! I don't know anything, ask someone down there!"

"Thank you." Silas said as he released the Turian's arm. He turned around and headed for the entrances that lead to Lower Afterlife. The Turian rubbed his arm and watched Silas leave. He hiccuped and proceeded to exit the bar, hurt and offended.

Silas journeyed down the stairway and into the lower, darker part of Afterlife. The orange lights transitioned into an array of dark colors. One could barely see in this section of Afterlife, but Silas' eyes were accustomed to dark situations. The music went from blaring beats to low and easy to follow percussions. Silas took it upon himself not to draw any attention as he entered, which proved to be easy enough. Those who weren't drugged out and danced crazily on the floor were either too caught up in their own affairs to notice him or simply too pissed to notice anything that wasn't their next shot.

Silas scanned the room for anyone of interest or fit the description of his bounty. His vacant brown eyes gravitated toward a lone Asari. She stood at the bar, after she clearly had a few shots, dressed in a slick black outfit. In this light, it would have been hard to distinguish a skirt from a pair of pants unless you'd felt it with your own hands. Silas, however, was able to identify her apparel. Slick, black jumpsuit. Commando gear. He began to head in her direction. The purple neon lights light up the ground, and the Asari, in front of him every few seconds. Silas could make out more fine details at this point. Clear scars along her neck and face. The jumpsuit which she wore had tears and stretches along its entirety.

"Rough night?" Silas asked as he reached the bar. He signaled the barkeep for two shots, which he obliged to.

"Is that any business of yours?" She asked.

"Just a question." Silas replied. The two shotglasses were slid to him. He slowly moved one over to the Asari, which she hesitantly took.  
"So, stranger. What makes you think I've had a rough night?" The Asari asked.

"You look like you've been here awhile. Anyone who spends that much time at the bar's got somethin' they wanna drown out," Silas told her, his voice raised so not to be drowned out by the music. "Like me." He picked up his shotglass and poured the contents into his mouth.

"Well, I guess you could say something like that." She told him. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name."

"Fenton." He said.

"Niala." She said in return.

"Well, Niala, let's get out of here." Silas asked.

"I think I'm better off here." She said. The Asari seemed to grow weary of Silas' facade. She looked down, only to see Silas had raised his gun to waist level during their conversation.

"I wasn't asking." Silas told her, his tone sinister. The Asari looked him over before she turned her back to him. "That's a good girl." Silas mocked. With the barrel of his Carnifex pressed into her back, he lead her out of the club unnoticed and into a far more secluded area.

Silas walked her out of Afterlife seemingly unnoticed. He made the ordeal seem as if they had left together in a happy fashion. The further they walked, the dimmer the lights got. Niala could not see a thing. All she felt was Silas' gun against her back.

"Keep walking." He said roughly.

"Where are you taking me?" Niala asked. She received no answer. "I hope it's someplace with candl-" Her speech was cut off by a crack over the back of her head. Silas knocked her out with the muzzle of his Carnifex. Niala dropped in a heap.

"Like a sack of shit." Silas said to himself as he holstered his pistol. He knelt down and grabbed her wrists. He pulled them behind her back and rummaged through the pouches on his belt until he pulled out some thick black wire. He bound her wrists and stood back up. Silas propped her up against a nearby wall. He reached below his left arm and grabbed his knife. He slipped it out of its sheath and gently palmed it in his hand. He admired the yellowish white of the Krogan bone as he stood before an unconscious Niala.

"Wake up." Silas said as he slapped her blue face. "C'mon, I didn't hit you that hard." Niala's eyes began to flutter before they finally shot open.

"What? I, I-"  
"Ah, ah, ah. Me first." Silas interrupted. "I'm looking for an Asari. Commando. I knew you couldn't of been her. You just reek of incompetence."  
"Fuck you!" Niala objected.  
"You wish." Silas extended the blade of his knife and dragged it along her cheek. A small slit formed and a stream of violet blood flowed out. "You're not her, but I know you're in league with her." Silas explained. "Tell me where she is."

"Fuck off, asshole!"

"Now, that wasn't very nice." Silas flipped his knife around and slammed it into Niala's knee. "Got it from a Krogan's rib. Hurts, doesn't it?" Silas asked as he twisted the knife into her newly shattered kneecap. She writhed in pain and screamed at the top of her lungs. "You gonna tell me where your boss is, or not?"

"Y-Y-... You'll never find her… You sick… Fuck. We cover our tracks g-good!"

"Alright." Silas said. He twisted his knife and yanked it from her leg. He stood back up and retrieved his Carnifex from his hip.

"Wh-what're y-" Boom. A single shot went straight through the Asari's head before she could finish her final sentence.  
"Bitch." Silas said. He looked at the purple blood that stained his knife. He reached back down and cut off a piece of Niala's black jumpsuit. "You mind? Ah, of course you don't." Silas turned away and began to clean the blood of his knife with the piece of fabric. "Not like you needed it anyway."

Silas tossed the rag away after it fulfilled its purpose. He slid the knife, bone blade now spotless and shining, into its sheath. Silas rummaged through his pockets, of which he had an obscene amount, and retrieved a half-empty carton of cigarettes. His white fingers closed in around a stick, pulling it out of the package, and placed it in his mouth. As if operating on instinct, Silas found his lighter to suddenly appear in his hand with no recollection of ever having grabbed it. The flame sparked and lit his cigarette, Silas inhaling at the exact same moment, and burned the thin paper that held the toxic contents inside. The smoke flowed into Silas' lungs and dispersed beautifully as he exhaled.

"This stuff tastes like shit, why do I even do it?" Silas said, examining the cigarette in his hands. He knelt down and looked to Niala's corpse. Silas shrugged and extinguished his cigarette on her unmoving body. "Just about as useless as you are," He said as he stood up. "Or _were_." He shrugged his shoulders and continued onward, down the dark and empty corridor.

Ever paranoid, Silas looked behind at the path he walked on every sixth step. The corridor he walked was narrow with barely any light bleeding in. The path was in dead silence, Silas swore he could hear his own heart beating, occasionally interrupted by steam from a broken pipe or a far off gunshot. It was Omega, afterall. 'One. Two. Three. Four.' Silas thought, 'Five.' He whipped his head around, only to be met by an empty blackness. "Fuck's sake, Silas." He muttered to himself. A rough force shoved him to his back. Silas groaned as his head slammed against the floor upon impact.

"You're gonna regret that almost as much as I do." Silas said, stumbling to his feet and blinking to clear the haze in his eyes. His ears rang loud as thunder, and before they stopped, Silas felt a large hand wrap around his neck and hoist him upward. He squirmed in the behemoth's hand, fighting to break free of its grasp, though it was in vain. Silas gagged and coughed as his eyes teared up. Through the watery film, he was finally able to get a glimpse of his aggressor. A Krogan, eight feet tall with a crest as dark as the night sky and armor to match it.

"Where's Niala?" The Krogan asked aggressively, closing his grip on Silas' neck tighter.

"Wh-ho the fuck i-?" Silas was interrupted by the pounding of a Krogan fist into his stomach.

"Don't play fucking games with me, I saw you two leave together!" The Krogan bellowed.

"Yo-ou're headed the… rig-ht way…" Silas coughed and smiled. "Mi-ght want to hu-urry, so her bo-dy's still wa-rm!"

The Krogan roared and slammed Silas into the ground. Silas gasped as the wind surged from within his body. The Krogan huffed and raised its fist to strike Silas where he lay, to which Silas became wise of almost immediately. Silas rolled out of the way as the Krogan's fist made contact with the floor, exactly where Silas' head had been. The Krogan hunched and attempted to pull his fist from the ground, which it was now firmly inserted into. Silas stumbled to his feet and kicked the side of the Krogan's head, breaking his fist free from the floor.

"What's the matter big guy, you have a thing for her? She's waiting for you, just down the hall." Silas asked sarcastically. "I mean, I didn't think Krogan were into that sort of thing, but I guess we all like to crack open a cold one now and then." He huffed, smirking.

The Krogan let out another roar, this one with sheer malice behind it, and whipped out his shotgun. In an instant, shots scattered in Silas' direction. The shots left small, scattered holes in the walls and floor surrounding. Silas dropped low, dodging each scattershot, until the weapon's ammunition was spent. Silas unsheathed his knife and lunged at the Krogan, driving the bone-blade through his armor and into his chest. The Krogan screamed in pain. He tried to step back from Silas, only ending up on his back.

Silas pulled the knife from the Krogan's chest and slit it in between his crest. The Krogan cried out as the blade slid between his crest and skull. Silas grabbed the lipped edge of the crest with his left hand and pulled the blade towards him with his right. The Krogan's screams grew more intense the further the crest came off. Silas pulled at the crest for what felt like, to him, an hour, until the dark black plate finally came free. Silas focused on his prize, holding it victoriously. He glanced toward the Krogan, his body now laying lifeless, as orange blood poured from his head. Silas' breath came heavy, the battle taking its toll, as he turned around and tried to walk. He fell to one knee and dropped the Krogan's plate, he gripped the left side of his ribcage and tried to stand. Silas failed to get back to his feet and rested on a single knee. He opened his omni-tool and looked for his medi-gel. One remained. The medi-gel was administered at the push of a button, though it was not enough to heal Silas' wounds. He wiped his mouth off with his forearm, which was sullied with blood afterward. With the medi-gel taking what course it could, Silas managed to stand. His eyes grew hazy as he walked down the hall. At this point, Silas knew there was only one place for him to go on Omega. A safe-haven where no one would find him.


	2. Safe Haven

Blood dribbled down Silas' chin, his eyesight fading in and fading out, as he walked through Omega. Silas stuck to the back alleys, keeping a low profile. He stumbled and slammed his shoulder into the wall for extra support, as he wondered what would become of him if he were to die here. Would his body rot, unbeknownst to the scum of Omega? Or, possibly, someone would find his body, recognizing who he was, and deface it, ultimately taking the Acacius for their own through usage of his corpse. Silas hacked up more blood. He wiped it from his mouth and hit the wall with the edge of his fist in anger. Silas' felt his head grow light. He stumbled forward, dragging his open hand along the wall, and fell on his chest. Silas landed with a sudden crack, losing consciousness. A white light was displayed before his eyes, until it finally faded to pitch black.

_The veil of unconsciousness enveloped Silas. His mind was freed, as were his thoughts. Silas' mind found itself traveling backward, into the furthest recesses of his mind. He found peace there. A sense of tranquility. Silas' mind was flashed with a series of unintelligible images and lights. They came in sporadically and assaulted his comatose brain. Through the images flashed, Silas could comprehend only few. A lakehouse on Earth, a home he'd vacationed in as a child. The image was promptly replaced by another. A bright, shining beacon presented itself. The Citadel. Silas felt a sudden warmth, a hazy image becoming more and more clear as the incomprehensible seconds passed. An Asari, her skin a vibrant blue. Silas knew her face. Sharia. In an instant, Silas was lost in a memory._

"_You don't have to go. Don't have to keep living the way you do. You can find honest work he-"_

_ "I don't want to hear it, Sharia." Silas said callously. He brushed her off and walked out the doorway of their shared bedroom. "It's the same damn song and dance everytime I'm here." Silas entered the living room and waltzed to the nearest window. He took in the vista the Citadel offered, a bright and shining skyline (or spaceline), and relieved himself with a heavy sigh. His eyes dropped shut, and a slim pair of hands snaked their way over his shoulders and around his body. The thin fingers traced his chest softly, attempting to quell his anger._

_ "You can stay here. With me." Sharia noted. Silas sighed once more and shook his head. _

_ "It isn't that simple, Ria." Silas turned his body round to face his Asari companion. "This…" His eyes drifted to his weapons and armor, sitting on a far off couch. "It's what I do. It's what I love to-"_

_ "And you don't love me?" She objected._

_ "That's not what I meant." Silas immediately corrected._

_ "Isn't it?" She said, her arms slithering back to their place at her sides. Sharia crossed her arms and glared at Silas._

_ "It's not." He said, taking her back into his arms. "This, what I do, it's important to me. It's what I do."_

_ "I don't kno-" _

_Silas' memory began to fade. The images blurred and started to become distant, replaced with a bright white flash._

"Tough bastard." A familiar voice echoed through Silas' mind. "What does it take to kill you?"

The darkness which covered Silas' vision was suddenly swept away as his eyes opened in the form of slits. The lights blinded him. _Fucking flourescents_, he thought, covering his eyes with a weak hand.

Silas sat up, his back and bones aching, and hunched himself over. Deft hands raced to his back and chest, pushing him up to an arch. "Stay still." The voice said. "I don't know if the medi-gel took effect yet."

Who would aid a man nearly bled out in a back alley on Omega, he thought, and fix him up in the safety of their own home. Silas blinked multiple times. He turned his head to the source of the voice as the haze left his eyes. He blinked twice more, finally able to lay eyes on his supposed savior.

"You…" Silas said, shock audibly filling his voice. "You son of a bitch."

Silas broke out into laughter, reeling in pain immediately after. He began to cough, violently. He covered his mouth and spewed a bit of blood onto his closed fist.

"Easy, now. It'll be a little while longer before you're fully healed. And it's good to see you, too." Ferys said calmingly.

Silas opened his eyes, squinting immediately, and laid eyes on his old companion. The years hadn't changed him. Then again, how Drell aged, Silas did not know. The race was an enigma to him, as was Ferys. The Drell had a slim figure, covered by a skin-tight suit which seemed to be custom dress among the race. His dark red skin highlighted his sleek features. Black eyes found their home near the center of his face, equally apart from the thin nose that slid down between them and stopped just above a thin set of lips. A mask of severity always covered Ferys' face that seldom lifted itself from him.

Regardless of his severe demeanor, Ferys was a welcome sight to Silas.

"I thought you were on Illium." Silas stated.

Ferys nodded in understanding. "As you should have." He reached out and rested a webbed hand on Silas' shoulder. Ferys touch was light, as not to harm his injured friend, yet Silas still found the Drell's skin to be rough against his bare shoulder. "I could never reveal my intentions to anyone other than myself, Silas. You of all people should know this, as your dealings fare the same as mine."

"Yeah," Silas winced. He looked down as his exposed upper-body, bandaged by bloody cloths. "Don't think your dealings get you beat to shit."

"Not always." Ferys said, his tone light but expression grim. "But, on occasion, even the best get bested." He joked.  
Silas would have rolled his eyes in that moment had it not hurt to move any part of his being.

"Always the jokester, Fer." Silas grunted, shifting his legs off of the small couch he'd been laid on. "You know how to tickle that funny bone of mine."

"Better it be tickled than broken, wouldn't you say?"

"Fuck you." Silas said plainly. Ferys cracked a small smile in return, which vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

As outlandish as it would sound to an outside mind, Silas could feel the strength in his muscles return. Medi-gel had a potent effect on everyone, but Silas always felt that it favored him greater than any partner he had worked with. It most certainly worked better for him than his bounties, he thought.

"I guess I can assume you know why I came here, the sneaky little fuck you are."

Ferys chuckled in return to Silas' brash and seemingly callous statement. "Indeed, I do. I also know a bit more about the job than you were led on to believe."

Silas' ears perked up at Ferys' claim. "Do you, now?" Silas asked. "Would you care to enlighten me as to what that might be?" Any information on the mission that was kept from him Silas needed to know. When taking a job, he found that he had come to expect a certain form of civilness to the affair. Silas received a job, he did the job, he got paid. Most knew not to cross Silas, having dealt with former false employers before, but every now and again someone grew bold enough.

Ferys nodded with an unchanged expression. "I shall, Silas. Be still, do not fracture your already broken body. Though, I think it would be best if you stayed seated until you've heard what I have to say." Ferys stood from his seat and clasped his hands behind his back. "I'm afraid you've killed the wrong Asari."

Silas felt his heart drop. _Liar_, he thought, _This one isn't funny._ "Good one, Fer." He said as he rose to his feet.

"I fear this is not a joke." Ferys said plainly.

"No, I know who I killed. I killed Niala S'Aerie, she told me herse-"

"And I could have easily told you I was Thane Krios upon our first meeting, but we both know there is no truth to be found in those words." Ferys gracefully interjected. "The Asari you killed was Saya R'Anti, Niala's double. She had her own face cut and shifted to resemble Niala's likeness on S'Aerie's own command. So grotesque a thought." Ferys trailed.

"Well, that isn't the Turian's fault." Silas muttered. "But it does pose more of a challenge. Might have to get double the pay, or beat the nearest asshole who says otherwise." Silas said, a sly smirk spread out across his face. Silas knew that he couldn't just let this Asari go unchecked. Niala had the power at her disposal to have doubles _made_ for her own protection. Whoever she was, she was of importance to her organization and Silas' own proprietors.

"If that's the case," Ferys said. "You will need help."  
"And who do you propose-"

Ferys cocked his own Carnifex, modded to the extent that it was almost unrecognizable in comparison to the factory-model, and nodded to Silas.

"No, no. I work better alone, and I'm not dragging you into this." Silas protested.

"I don't believe I asked for your permission." Ferys stated bluntly. "But don't worry, I have no intention of stealing your pay." Ferys holstered his pistol at his side and gestured to a metal cabinet propped up against the wall behind them. "Your armor and weapons are in that locker, when you decide to dress yourself for the occasion." Silas grumbled in return to his friend's thin joke. "Cheer up, Silas. You need someone to make sure you don't get killed by another Krogan."

"That was one time, Ferys. _One time_!" Silas defended. "And I was only dead for a couple of seconds."  
"I remember it as a full five minutes." Ferys corrected.

"Doesn't matter," He stated. "I'm not dead now."

Ferys let out a small laugh, though his lips stayed a thin line, as Silas made his way to the locker. He placed one strong hand on the handle and opened the case. His pistol, rifle and armor were all laid out before him, spotless. Ferys had cleaned them all individually, Silas gathered. "Fer, I-"  
"You would have done the same for me." He returned.  
_Don't know if I would_, Silas thought. "Don't think too much of me, Ferys. You'll find that to be a big letdown." Silas plainly said.

"I do not think too much of you, Zaire. I can only see you in a light which you should see your own self in." Ferys told.

Silas cocked his pistol. A soft and hardly audible hum told the beholder the weapon was armed. Silas didn't know what Ferys said half of the time, whether he spoke in the vaguest of terms or the clearest. Though the messages were jumbled and seemingly non-existent, Ferys had a clairvoyance of sorts to his words. No matter what they held, Silas found himself with a new sense of confidence in hearing them. "Enough of the fuckin' riddles, Fer." Silas said. "We've got an Asari to hunt."


	3. Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

The Acacius sat dormant, unmoved from the spot in which Silas left it. That was one constant, he found, the Acacius would always be waiting for him. Silas examined the small ship, still taken aback by the beauty he felt it had. The small amount of light that radiated off of the neon lights of Omega reflected off of its sleek grey metal and gave it a slight orange tint. Silas' eyes wandered down the body of it, admiring the twin engines that protruded from each side of the ship in a symmetrical fashion. The VTOL design had cost him extra; but when its flight was demonstrated and the blue flames burned from the ship, Silas knew he had to have them. Two smaller engines made their home in the back, one on top of the other. Standard engine, though the extensive years of modification gave the Acacius the extra kick it needed to become a well-known, yet seldom seen, ship. She wasn't the largest ship, Silas knew, but she was a lot bigger on the inside.

Silas gazed up at the cockpit. It towered above him, casting a shadow overhead. Now fully armored, Silas tapped his left gauntlet a few times. The ship-to-user virtual interface pinged with each tap until a louder ping notified Silas his ship was unlocked. The cargo bay ramp lowered until its edge touched the ground. A slight rush of air gave Silas a chill. Silas looked behind him. He was immediately greeted by Ferys, who donned a black skin-tight Drell suit covered by a grey overcoat for their journey.

"I hope that isn't all you brought." Silas joked.

"I travel light." Ferys returned, brushing back his coat to reveal the pistol which hung on his hip.

Silas nodded in silent agreement. All a man needed was a weapon and his wit, Silas thought, and maybe a ship. Silas turned his head forward and walked up the ramp into the cargo bay. Ferys followed close behind. As soon as both had stepped on board, Silas tapped on his wrist-pad again until the ramp closed itself up. A variety of boxes, some empty and some full, filled the cargo hold. Some laid topless and on their side, while others sat upright and in uniform.

"Your organization skills are… impeccable." Ferys noted.  
"Fuck you." Silas returned immediately. He did not break stride, walking through the dark room and up the steps which led to the living quarters.

Silas felt along the wall in the dark, searching for the light controls. He searched for the better of three minutes before he recalled that it could be activated via voice. He groaned internally upon the realization.

"Lights." Silas said."

The lights flicked on. They blinded Silas upon their initial brightness. He grunted in annoyance.

"Mood lighting." Silas commanded. The lights dimmed, lessening their violence to his eyes. He turned back to Ferys, whose face was painted with confusion. "Don't worry, I'm not trying anything on you, Fer." He said, a smirk spread across his face. "C'mon, make yourself at home."

"You live in this?" Ferys asked.  
A sudden realization made itself abundantly clear to Silas.

"Shit," He started. "You've never been on the Acacius, have you?"

"Can't say I've had the…" Ferys glanced around the small space, finding not but a ratty couch and a kitchen station. "Pleasure."

"Greatest ship I've ever flown. Well, only ship I've ever flown…" Silas trailed. "Still, she's sleek, she's lean, and she's fast."

"Very minimalist." Ferys said, sitting himself down on Silas' couch.

"I'm a simple man." Silas returned. "So, let me give you the tour."

"I'd rather just find it myse-"

"Won't take long." Silas interrupted. "Right there, this is the mess and rec." He spread his arms out as Ferys looked around the room. Pots, pans, bowls and silverware sat dirtied in the rarely used sink. Ferys' returned his attention to Silas, clearly unimpressed. "She's not that bad." Silas defended. He turned around and pointed to the back set of rooms. "Guest rooms. Not often that I have guests, but-"  
Ferys interjected, "Often enough to need them?"

"No, actually." Silas corrected. An awkward silence filled the room. "Tough one, aren't you?" Silas asked, to which he got no answer. "Uh, and over there's the cockpit. But that one explained itself, didn't it?" Again, no answer. Silas stared at Ferys who, in turn, stared back at him. "So, about that Asari."

"Niala," Ferys started. "Your best course would be to set a course for the Citadel."

Silas felt his heart drop like a stone. The Citadel was the last place he wanted to be. As expansive as it was, the longer he dealt there the more chances to see _her_would present themselves. "Citadel it is." Silas said, a fake smile thrown on top of his plain expression. He grumbled and made his way to the pilot's seat and planted himself in it. _Of all the places_, he thought, _the Citadel had to be the one. _

Unhappily, Silas manned the helm of his ship. He began to flip a series of switches. Each one clicked until the Acacius' engines began to roar. The ship rose from the ground on which it sat, and floated gracefully above the back streets of Omega in no time. The roar caused some to look above, and even draw their weapons, but Silas was gone in seconds. Silas looked in his rear-view display at the big orange rock as it slowly drifted further and further away. He redirected his attention to the mass relay they fastly approached. _Alright,_ Silas thought,_ here we go._

The ship's speed increased the closer it got to the relay. Shots of energy that looked like lightning touched all around the ship's hull while a soft hum grew louder and louder until it ended in a loud shot. The Acacius took off at the speed of light, jumping from relay to relay until it ended up in the Serpent Nebula. From there, Widow.

The haze of FTL travel washed off of the ship and gave way to the view. Silas took it all in immediately. There, the big, sprawling space station floated, unmoving, in empty space. Though it wasn't empty, Silas thought, for it was occupied by millions upon millions of inhabitants on that titan of a station. Silas found himself thinking of how long it would take to hunt down every cruel soul with a bounty on their heads. He traced the Citadel's massive arms with is eyes. Each one appeared intricate in nature, as it was, with small neon strings running through them like some sort of wirework.

Silas slowed the ship down on approach. A ping popped up on his forward display. He reached forward and tapped it twice. A voice he did not recognize voiced itself.

"State your name and business." The voice commanded.

"Fenton Nash." Silas lied. "Only business you need to know is I need to land here."

A silence lingered long after Silas' words had left his lips. The voice took what seemed like ages to respond.

"Very well, you may proceed."

"Thank you, have a pleasant day." Silas happily returned. He ended the communications link shortly after. "Fucking prick."

Silas flew the Acacius into the docking areas on one of the Citadel's arms. The ship pulled in slowly. It slowed to a stop and a dock reached out to meet it. Silas was forced to contort the ship in an odd manner, for the only exit was the cargo hold. He reached out and tapped a few more keys, sectioning off the cargo bay from the living areas. The air in the cargo bay was filtered out as the ramp slowly opened itself. The dock locked firmly onto it, returning the airflow once again. Silas tapped the same keys he had hit only seconds before, making the ship's connection whole again.

Silas turned around in his chair and stood up. He looked to his hip to double-check that his Carnifex still rested there. It did. He reached to his back and checked if his rifle was still there. Again, it was. Silas found himself taken aback in that moment. His eyes searched the room, yet they did not find what they sought. Something was missing, but he still could not place it.

Ferys.

_Shit_, Silas thought,_ fucking Drell._ Silas ran to the cargo bay and quickly glanced around the room. No Ferys. He had already left Silas to fare for himself. But Ferys had his reasons, as Silas had found in the past. He would not have left unless he had the utmost confidence in Silas. And Ferys would find him of his own accord at a later date, he was sure.

"No time like the present." He muttered himself.

Geared up and ready to go, Silas made his way out of the Acacius and into the Citadel.

Upon entry, the bright fluorescent lights blinded Silas. He raised a hand to cover his eyes until they had adjusted. He'd never had the best eyes, not even as a boy. Being extremely photosensitive had also made him easily irritable over the years.

_No leads_, Silas thought_, no way to know where to start. _Silas sighed as a realization became apparent to him. _Drell bastard._ There was only one person on all of the Citadel he knew to go to. One who had taps on nearly everyone roaming around the large sprawl, only-

A jarring shove knocked Silas' thoughts off track. He swung his head around in anger, only to be met by the barrel of a gun.

"Gaul." Silas greeted.

"Didn't think I'd recognize your ship?" Gaul asked.

"Oh, I was hoping you would." Silas said, a smile present on his face.

"I thought I made myself perfectly clear." Gaul growled.

"Oh, no doubt about that, big guy." Silas said. Gaul was tall, even for a Batarian. Each one of his eyes had fire in them. His leathery brown skin was detailed with slight smears of warpaint, a custom among Batarians. What few were left. On this day, Gaul had a particularly angry fire about him. More so than usual. "If I recall, I still need about five-hundred credits for that bounty I took off your hands."

"Cashed and spent, you little fucking worm." Gaul barked. "My bounty, my pay." Gaul had trained his weapon's sights directly between Silas' eyes.

Silas focused on the barrel, his eyes crossing as he did, then refocused on Gaul. "That's hardly fair."

"You should talk about fair, Zaire." He growled.

"Hey, I may not be a legitimate businessman but I _respect_ other hunters!" He defended. Silas looked down at his feet with a shrug. "Oh, wait, I don't." He smirked and looked back to Gaul.

Gaul growled and turned his pistol's safety off. Silas knew the sound by heart. He could feel his muscles tense up, his heartbeat increase, his palms sweat. But he wasn't afraid. The only fear he had was for Gaul. "Just walk away, Gaul. It's not worth it."

"Oh," Gaul pressed his pistol to Silas' forehead. "I think it is. Been needing to clean the shitstain from my underwear for a long time."  
"Really?" Silas asked with a head tilt. "Of all the analogies you could have used, you decided to go with _that_? I'm appalled."  
"Shut the fuck up!" Gaul shouted. He pulled back his pistol and prepared to whip him. Gaul was not the intelligent sort.

Silas clenched his hand into a fist, knuckles turned white, and slammed it with all his force into Gaul's stomach. Gaul winced and hunched over in pain. He snarled and raised his pistol up to Silas. Silas lurched forward and grabbed Gaul's wrist and twisted as hard as he possibly could. Gaul cried out in pain. At this point in the fight, bystanders had either run to tell C-Sec (or find their own safety) or watched the battle in shock. Gaul dropped his pistol as his wrist was twisted. Silas let go of his hold over him. Gaul growled again and, in a fit of rage, tackled Silas to the ground. He raised his fists and began to relentlessly pummel Silas' face. This was his opening. Silas slammed his fist into Gaul's ribs. Gaul screamed as they cracked audibly. He grabbed his side and fell off of Silas. Silas stumbled to his feet. He sniffed the air and noticed the blood running from his nose. He wiped it off with the back of his hand and tasted the blood. The tinge of iron filled his mouth and caused him to smirk.

Gaul squirmed on the ground in pain. He clenched his left side in agony. "I thought _you_ were the one who was going to 'fucking kill' _me._" He noted and laughed at the Batarian's misfortune. Silas smiled and crouched down next to his fallen foe. He put on a fake pout and looked Gaul in the face. "See, I don't think you know who it is you're fucking with. I'm Silas fucking Zai-"

A hard crack to the back of his head broke his speech.

_Again? _Silas thought before he blacked out once more.

In the span of what seemed like a minute, though it had been multiple hours, Silas came to. His body rested on a soft couch, much softer than Ferys'. It may have been leather, he thought but was not sure. The quality of couches he came out of unconsciousness on were the least of his concerns. Whose the couch was took the forefront in his mind. He opened his eyes, slowly at first to avoid irritation until they adjusted, and found that the lights had been seemingly dimmed down to the setting he was most pleased with.

Silas squinted and sat up. He ran a hand through his thin, smooth blonde hair and mussed it up a bit. He coughed and raised a hand to wipe the blood from beneath his nose, but found none on contact. Silas gathered that, wherever he was, his captor had cleaned him up before they laid him down. That, in and of itself, was odd to Silas. Even Ferys had only given him a bit of medi-gel, the rest had been on him to do.

He glanced around the room, but found no signs that would indicate whose abode he had been placed in. All he was were a few 'artsy' paintings hung up on the wall which he scoffed at, a few dark leather seats with soft-looking throw pillows on them and a window which overlooked the vista the Citadel offered. Silas took it in. He missed the view here, he had since the day he left. It had been months since his return, and this was a welcome sight.

"You're finally awake?" A soft voice asked.

Silas spun his head around. His next sight was better than the first.

"Shari?" He asked the Asari.

Silas stood up from his seat and darted to her. A swell of emotions flooded back into him. He swept her up in his arms and pressed his lips to hers. His hands brushed her soft, bumpy skin. As quickly as he had done the act, he pulled away and let go of her. Silas took a couple of steps back and awkwardly brushed the back of his head. "I mean, uh. It's good to see you."

He studied her. She hadn't changed since he left. Asari didn't age as humans did, so it was no shock to him. Her soft blue features were warm and welcoming to him. She had an elegance to her, as all Asari did, but Sharia was different. Silas felt warm, he felt cold, he felt scared and safe whenever he was near her. He found vulnerability even the worst of the Krogan Torture Squad he'd encountered during his time on Tuchanka couldn't muster when she was around. The dim light reflected off of her thin red dress. The silver accents only radiated her beauty.

Sharia smiled in return and tried her best to mask her satisfaction with his reaction. "I could say the same."

Silas was now more confused than he had been five minutes ago. "So, you knew I was-"  
"Before you landed."

"And that was you that-"  
"Stopped you from making yourself look like anymore of a goddamn fool? Yeah, that was me."

"And this is your-"

"New apartment."

"So, I can only assume that-"

"I know why you're here? Can't say I don't."

"So, can I finish my own senten-"

"Not likely." She smirked. "Listen, I know why you're here. You're looking for Niala, right?" She asked. Silas opened his mouth to answer, but she began to speak before he could. "I know who she is. I know where she is. I know how you're going to find her."

"And what's the catch?" Silas asked hesitantly.

Sharia paused and walked passed him. He turned and watched her walk to the open window that he'd stared out of minutes prior. She lowered her head and turned back to Silas, a small smirk in the corner of her mouth. "You're taking me with you."


End file.
